


Xoxo, Malfoy

by Toixx_nimpark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy is gay and suffering, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pansy is tired of listening to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 07:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toixx_nimpark/pseuds/Toixx_nimpark
Summary: Pansy has had enough. Truly. She would pull her hair out of her scalp if she had to listen to Draco Malfoy whine about his crush one more time. With her newest plan, they couldn't go wrong.





	Xoxo, Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing as Pansy, so I hope I did her justice! I had this idea stuck in my head for days before I finally started writing it. I didn't expect it to be 7k words! I hope you enjoy it...

Pansy had heard enough to last her a lifetime. She was exhausted from hearing him moan and whine about _ Potter this _ and  _ Potter that. _ One person can only handle so much.

Her idea was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, so much so it would put that Granger girl to shame. Almost all of her ideas were completely wonderful and perfect, it was the other people involved who would muck it all up. 

So it was no wonder why this one flopped the way it did. 

Draco was laying with his head on her lap. Using her thighs as a pillow, and Pansy couldn’t even mind considering how many times she’s used his shoulder as a headrest. By then, they had known each other for  _ ages _ , and a little bit of resting wasn’t anything they shied away from. 

McGonagall had been bringing her aside as of late to go over easy spells. Transfiguration wasn’t her best class and McGonagall wanted her to do better than she did on her OWLs from last year; she’d barely scraped by with an Acceptable. 

On that day, she was pointing her wand at a rock about three feet away from her toes. Muttering “ _ Avifors _ ” under her breath. Draco was being no help at all, so she was considering siccing the bird on him when the rock finally turned into one.  _ If _ the rock ever turned into one. The wanker dared to laugh after the rock didn’t do so much as sprout a couple of feathers. 

“If you can do it any better, I’d love to see you try,” she sneered, whapping his upper arm with her wand as she sat back on her hands. 

“I passed my Transfiguration OWL with an Outstanding, thank you very much.” He was frowning. “Did you hear Potter failed his Divination class?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes and groaned. “No, Draco. Because _ I don’t care _ .” She poked his cheek with her wand and he scowled at her. “If you want to chat him up about your OWL grades, why don’t you just do so?” 

“What a great idea, Pans! And then, afterward, we can skip around holding hands and burst out into song about how in love we are,” he said, eyes deadpanned. His voice had gotten lower and more sarcastic as he kept talking. 

“It would be far better than you moping around about how he won’t acknowledge your teasing.” 

Draco sat up off of her to look at her in the eye. She always thought the grey in his eyes looked so cold and uninviting. 

“Look,” he started, and Pansy finally noticed the pink in his cheeks. “If you don’t want to hear me  _ moping  _ then I’ll be more than happy to leave you to study on your own.” 

Pansy sighed. Her friend was so terrible at communicating she was surprised their teachers knew how to decipher his essays. They didn’t back down from each other, eyes glaring just a bit harsher every few seconds until she finally cracked. 

“Fine. I have a solution.” Draco nodded for her to continue. “What if you just wrote to him about your feelings?” 

“What the hell, Pansy?” He recoiled. “What, and get hexed all the way to the moon?” 

“ _ And get hexed all the way to the moon? _ ” She mocked in a high-pitched, whiny tone. “No. Don’t give it to him. Just write your feelings out. Let the paper be your guide instead of me…” 

Draco groaned, pushing the hair that had fallen around his face back up. He hated wearing that gel his mother bought for him; he said it made his hair sticky and stiff. His eyes were set onto the dirt by his feet. 

“And if it doesn’t work?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Then we’ll come up with a schedule. Every Tuesday and Friday I can give you one hour to tell me all of your woes and desires!” 

He still looked discouraged, like he didn’t want to believe her. Merlin, that was sad. Thank Salazar Pansy had other friends besides him, or she would just be depressed all the time. 

She pointed her wand back at the rock. “ _ Avifors _ !” It didn’t so much as twitch. 

~~~

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she muttered under her breath. The damned plant just wasn’t sprouting. It didn’t matter how she moved her wand or what nuances she used in her voice, Pansy just couldn’t get it to grow. It wasn’t fair. Did this even count as a Transfiguration spell? 

The Slytherin Common Room was warmed by the large stone fireplace across the couches. Professor Snape always had to enchant it to be hotter because of how damn cold it got in the dungeons. They were sleeping under the lake, for gorgons’ sake. Generations of past Slytherins would leave traditional, handknitted blankets and throw pillows for the future classes. 

Pansy was wearing one of those thick, warm blankets around her like a cocoon, with only her head and her wand arm poking out to practice  _ Herbivicus  _ when she was so rudely interrupted. Draco came skidding down the Boys’ Dormitory hallway, his robes not even on. Hell, all he had one were trousers and the standard button-up, not even his Slytherin tie. She nearly dropped her wand at the startle and took in his expression. 

His eyes were wild and crazed. Blond hair whipped around as his head swiveled, looking for something she couldn’t see. Pansy was nearing the point of worry where she was wondering if she should call Professor Snape in to stop yet another mental breakdown from one of the students when Draco finally ran up to her. 

“Pans.” He was out of breath. What the hell was going on? “Pansy… Please tell me that I gave you the letter that I wrote to Potter?” 

Oh, so that’s what this was about. “No, Draco. I didn’t want to hear about it anymore, remember? Why would I take it?” 

He looked stricken. His pale, thin hands were shaking violently, and the urge to fetch Professor Snape was getting stronger. Draco dipped forward, catching himself on the side of the couch. 

“It’s gone.” 

_ I should really get Snape now _ . “What?” 

Draco jerked his head up and his eyes met Pansy’s. “The letter, the one in which I poured my heart into about my crush on someone who absolutely hates me, is missing. Someone took it.” 

The gravity of the situation sunk in. Goosebumps prickled on Pansy’s skin, and she didn’t think it was from the chill of the dungeons. 

“Merlin,” she breathed softly. If somebody found out, that could ruin the Malfoy reputation. Draco had responsibilities when it came to his family name: get married to a nice pureblood woman (most likely Pansy herself) and carry on the family name. 

Merlin, she was the worst friend. Never keep a physical copy of your thoughts, because you give any person the power of Legilimency. And someone was doing that to her best friend, to Draco. 

“What if he already knows, Pans? What if he’s on his way right now to hex me for liking him? Merlin, would father believe him over me?” 

Pansy bit her lip. “Your father already kind of knows, doesn’t he Draco?” 

“Definitely doesn’t mean he accepts that of me, Pans.” 

She winced and allowed her head to bump against the back of the couch, pain spiking through her skull.  _ I am the worst friend _ . Pansy felt guilty about being comfortable and warm in the blanket while Draco was panicking, and she threw it off of her. Embraced the cold. 

“Have you asked Blaise if he’s seen where it is?” 

Draco stood up, though his knees were still shaking slightly. He shook his head. “Nope. He’s been studying for exams all day. Holed himself up in the library. I don’t think he's even gone out for food.”

“Great!” She stood up and slid her wand into the pocket of her skirt. “We can just go over and ask if he’s heard anything. He’s your roommate after all.” She tugged her robes on. 

Pansy grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the dungeons. 

~~~

Blaise was going to murder them. First Draco, then Pansy. She wasn’t oblivious to the small crush Blaise harbored on her in their third year, yet she can only hope it’ll spare her a few minutes more of life before he kills them for interrupting his studying. 

There are multiple other students in the library, looking at the trio of Slytherins warily, surrounded by towers of books. Some titles Pansy didn’t think she could even pronounce. When their expressions got too disgusted for her comfort, she’d sneer right back.

“What do you two want?” He said quietly, voice slurred from lack of sleep. 

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but then quickly shut it again. To save him from looking like a dying fish for any longer than he has to, Pansy stepped in. 

“Have you seen anyone go in or out of your and Draco’s room?” 

He yawned and looked at them again. The fog in his eyes was clearing slightly. Pansy was anxious for him to answer so she could stop feeling like such a shitty friend. Blaise could be infuriating when he was like this— brain not focused on anything really, just drifting through various magical concepts. They just had to wait an extra thirty seconds for him to process everything they asked of him, but currently, they didn’t have the extra time. 

Eventually (twenty excruciating seconds later), he responded, “Just the house-elves coming in to fix up the sheets, wash the bathrooms. Y’know, the works.” 

Pansy couldn’t help but tilt her head, bottom lip pushing out ever so slightly. Seeing him look so far away and lost in his studies was almost heartbreaking. Lucky for her, he’d no doubt be back to his arrogant self by the end of exams. 

“Fuck,” Draco whimpered, reminding her that he was in the same room as them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ no _ .” 

Merlin, were his eyes watering? Oh no, she would not let Draco have a breakdown in the library during the middle of exam revisions. 

“ _ Draco Lucius Malfoy _ ,” she hissed, grasping onto his upper arms, her sharp nails digging into his robe sleeve. “We’ll go to the kitchens and ask around. It’s not the end of the world.” 

Blaise looked confused, but not confused enough to ask about it. He just waved them off and returned to his studies. 

Okay, Pansy was kind of lying about taking Draco to the kitchens. He couldn’t just have a panic attack mid-compromise with the house-elves. Tugging him after her, the dense ball of  _ I’m-a-shitty-friend _ weighing down her stomach, she led them to an empty classroom. She locked the door behind them. 

Draco stumbled into a chair, his chest heaving but not panting. His hands were shaking again. Pansy knelt in front of him, trying to meet his eye. He wasn’t crying, but the tears welling up on his water line were getting heavier and heavier. 

She grabbed his shaking hands and rubbed her thumb against his skin. “Hey, Draco. It’s alright, mate.” 

“Don’t fucking tell me that, Pans.” As morbid and disheartening as it sounded, he was smiling slightly. “Pansy Parkinson, if we cannot locate this letter I will personally hex you so hard your ancestors won’t even sense you from beyond the Veil.” 

Laughter bubbled out of her chest, lessening the weight in her stomach slightly. “I’ll hold you to that, Draco. Now,” she stood up, making him stand as well. “Let’s march down to the kitchen and threaten some house-elves, right?” 

He took a few deep breaths, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. If he couldn’t control his nerves, he might as well hide them. Pansy flattened out his button-up around his shoulders, trying to make him look more presentable. 

“What about my hair?” 

“Don’t touch it; it kind of gives you that ‘just rolled out of bed’ look,” she smiled and stepped back. He didn’t look so disheveled anymore. 

They waited by the door for a few minutes before leaving, making sure no footsteps could be heard from outside. Neither of them wanted random students to see both of them coming out of an abandoned classroom together. If rumors like that spread it would only encourage Lucius Malfoy to easily ignore his son’s sexuality. 

In their fourth year, when Draco first told her, they planned their futures together. If they started dating and got married early, then maybe she could just quickly pop out a few Malfoy kids and they could have a quick divorce. It was only when they had their first kiss that those plans fell through, and they fell hard. Merlin, if they couldn’t handle kissing each other without feeling nauseous, how were they supposed to have children?

Nobody should’ve been around in the kitchens. It was hours after lunch. The house-elves would probably just be preparing dinner for the students next. All the same, the Slytherins snuck around the corners and stairs to get where they needed to go. As they got closer to their destination, she noticed Draco looking like he was going to vomit more with every second. 

Merlin help these poor house-elf souls if none of them turned up with the letter. Headmaster Dumbledore would not be so forgiving on them if Draco accidentally maimed a few if his breakdown let off magical waves. (The last time she had a breakup, she remembered making all of the lights in the Slytherin dungeon burst with accidental magic and everyone had to use  _ Lumos _ just to get around and study.)

It was loud as they neared the kitchens, bustling and talking from the inside. These house-elves were in for a rude awakening. 

None really noticed when they entered. It wasn’t uncommon for students to go down for snacks or to make up for lost meals. Blaise and those students in the library would probably have a feast when exams were finished. 

Pansy knocked down an empty pot to gather all of the short creatures’ attention spans. When she had all of their wide, marble-like eyes on her, she began her speech. 

“Which one of you cleans the Slytherin dungeons?” A few hands rose. “The boys’ dormitories?” Fewer hands rose. “Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini’s dorm room?” This time, only one hand rose. 

Draco inhaled sharply on her left, but she didn’t recognize the house-elf. He was timid and giving Draco frightened looks. 

“You,” Pansy pointed to him. “What’s your name?” 

“T-Tokkey, ma’am,” the house-elf’s voice was shaky and strained. 

She leaned over and whispered in Draco’s ear, “Do you know him?” 

He whispered back, “Old manor house-elf. I haven’t seen him since I was eight years old. My father probably wanted my room to only be cleaned by Malfoy house-elves.” 

The other house-elves were circling around Tokkey, creating a shield to protect him. These were Hogwarts house-elves now, and none of them had any sworn loyalties to random students. 

Even indirectly, Lucius Malfoy found a way to ruin his son’s life. Pansy groaned and pointed at Tokkey again. Shit, she should be pointing with her wand— that would look so much more badass. 

“What did you do with Draco’s letter, Tokkey?”

He visibly shuddered, looking back and forth between Draco and Pansy. His mouth quivered like he was having a difficult time trying to find the words. 

“It wasn’t j-just me, Miss Parkinson,” he argued. “I took it out because I couldn’t tell if it was flown into the wrong room. The owls always mess up like th-that.” 

“So who else was it?” 

Tokkey laughed nervously. He was wringing his hands. “Um, well, it was actually Dobby’s idea to give it to Mr. Potter. He is d-dearly in Mr. Potter’s debt and he thought it would be nice to deliver it directly.” 

_ Dobby _ . Pansy had heard that name before. Draco used to complain about him all the time in their first year about how he would mess up his laundry or favorite food. It would be annoying as hell if she had to listen to his house-elf rants nowadays, but back then she was just shocked to know he had so many house-elves. 

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat and fell to his knees, catching himself with his palms on the kitchen tiles. Quite a few of the house-elves gasped rather audibly, and Pansy tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Yes, she understood this was traumatic and terrifying for Draco, but the dramatics were starting to get to her. 

Pansy glared at the house-elf. If they were going to be dramatic, they might as well get  _ very  _ dramatic. “Where is Dobby now, Tokkey?” 

Tokkey’s eyes were as wide as the plates he was holding under on arm. “U-Um, actually I d-don’t know the specifics. I th-think he was going to finish up h-his chores before handing the letter to Mr. P-Potter.” 

“What chores did he have after cleaning the Slytherin rooms?” She asked, hoping her voice didn’t portray her impatience. She needed to keep her cool if she was ever going to intimidate these house-elves. 

“S-Second floor bathrooms, Miss Parkinson.”

Pansy frowns. Would they have to encounter Moaning Mrytle? This excursion to find Draco’s letter was becoming more exhausting as it went on. She wanted to turn to Draco and ask him if it would really be so bad to live on the moon. 

Instead, she clutched his upper arm again and dragged him out of the kitchen. He’d be lucky not to have a bruise in that same spot the next day. That bloody house-elf had better be in those bathrooms by the time they got up there. 

Her best friend was following her like a shadow. He had no expression on his face, just a schooled neutrality to hide his true emotions. It was a tactic he used often, especially so when in public. Pansy understood why he needed it, but she wished he didn’t have to. 

She heard the ruckus before she saw it. A choir of students laughing and giggling, and the telling voice of Hogwarts’ resident poltergeist, Peeves. The dead bastard had a knack for pulling students’ bookbags from their arms and messing with their clothes. Once, he had mussed of Pansy’s hair and its short length made her look like she’d been electrocuted. 

When Draco and Pansy reached the top of the stairs, they saw what everyone was laughing at. Peeves was floating up near a chandelier, his face uncomfortably close to Dobby’s. Dobby was hanging from the chandelier by his potato sack of clothes. 

Draco tugged on her sleeve and pointed to Peeves’ left hand. Pinched between his thumb and pointer finger was Draco’s letter to Harry Potter. 

Pansy felt devoid of hope. Hell, they could’ve threatened Dobby into handing it over. But Peeves? He would never give them anything. If he knew that this particular thing had sentimental value, he’d clutch it to his transparent chest even tighter. 

She looked at her best friend. His face was gaunt and pale. He seemed as if he aged forty years. The sickly feeling in her stomach twisted around her insides. _ I am a shitty friend _ . 

“What in the world are you doing?” Her voice was loud and clear and harsh. McGonagall stormed up to the group, eyes dark and piercing. 

Their savior. Fuck Harry Potter; Professor McGonagall was her Savior of the Wizarding World. There was nothing fiercer than when this powerful witch had her hands on her hips and tapped the toes of her left shoe onto the stone floors.  _ This  _ was Pansy’s favorite teacher. 

Students dispersed from the circle to create an opening for McGonagall. Peeves was looking between her and the house-elf still hanging from the chandelier. Dobby was swinging forward ever so slightly, waiting to gather enough momentum to snatch back the letter. Pansy narrowed her eyes at his efforts. He would not be getting that letter back. 

Peeves laughed nervously. Instead of answering her, he dropped the letter to the ground and somersaulted upwards, thrusting his specter through the roof and out of sight. The action left red and white stripes on the ceiling from his trousers. 

McGonagall apologized to the students for his behavior. She stepped forward and picked up the letter. “Who did this belong to?” 

Dobby, that short little shit, had his dumb mouth open to tell her. He was a liar, stealing other people’s letters to deliver them. Pansy couldn’t stand him. No bloody wonder Draco ranted about him all year long for two years straight. He vented about Dobby almost as much as he talked about Harry Potter. 

Pansy threw her hand in the air and yelled loudly, “It’s mine, Professor!” Then, she immediately cringed. 

Her teacher raised an eyebrow at her and glanced at the light handwriting on the front of the envelope that read as Potter. Merlin, she should kill Draco for that. Why’d he have to write the wanker’s name on the front? McGonagall straightened her posture and nodded. 

“Miss Parkinson, Mister Malfoy, would you please follow me to my office.” It wasn’t a question. Pansy hung her head a little and nudged Draco, who looked to be in shock. 

As they followed her to her office, Pansy looked back to see the charms professor levitating the heartbroken house-elf down to the ground. 

~~~

Professor McGonagall’s office was smaller than she’d expected. When she’d been called to Snape’s office in the past, it was bigger than this. But maybe that was just so he could accommodate for his expert-level potions station. McGonagall fit comfortably into her chair behind the desk. Pansy and Draco sat in the chairs on the other side of it, no doubt looking far less comfortable.

The letter was placed in the middle of the desk, with McGonagall’s clasped hands resting just behind it. Now that she could get a better look at, Pansy saw how pathetic it looked. The name was centered on the envelope (Merlin, he used an  _ envelope _ ) in light writing like he didn’t know if he was allowed to write it or not. 

“Miss Parkinson,” she began. “Does this letter belong to you?” 

Well, fuck, she couldn’t back down now. Draco went stiff beside her. 

“Yes.” She didn’t allow herself to flinch. “It belongs to me. I wanted to write Potter a stupid letter to make him feel bad. But then that house-elf stole it and got in a row with Peeves. I didn’t want anyone to see it until Potter had read it first. To humiliate him.” 

Lies slipped off of her tongue so easily. 

McGonagall looked at her intensely, then spared a glance at Draco. “Mister Malfoy, did you work with her to write this letter?” 

Draco’s head snapped up and he looked at their teacher. His hands gripped his thighs to keep them from shaking. If McGonagall couldn’t see how pale he had gotten, then maybe she’d be oblivious enough to take Pansy’s fake story at face value. 

In a quiet voice, he responded, “No.” 

There was a long silence permeating throughout the room. From behind her, Pansy could hear the sound of a cat stretching and meowing. She never saw one before. 

Professor McGonagall sighed, her eyes closed, and then picked up the letter. “Mister Malfoy, I have been your Transfiguration teacher for six years. I have taught both Mister Potter and yourself for six years. You two are not the first rivalry I’ve seen at Hogwarts.” 

Draco’s mouth pursed like he was going to vomit. Eventually, he had to break, right? Pansy thought he was getting closer. She felt like they were playing a torturous waiting game.

“I understand, Draco. Your situation is not the greatest.” She dropped the letter on her desk. “I used to have a student who you remind me of. He was a Gryffindor who was in love with one of his best friends. But his parents…” Her face twisted into a slight grimace. “They weren’t the best role models for him. When he finally confessed, though, he and his best friend found ways to be together without putting him in any danger.” 

Pansy wondered who this student was but kept quiet, It felt like she was intruding on an important coming-of-age conversation. She stared at her hands in her lap, playing with the heavy ring she wore. Her mother practically spelled it onto her because it was a family heirloom. 

Her best friend wouldn’t look at McGonagall. He was staring at the letter as it had personally spurned him. “Professor, all we need is the letter back,” he said in a curt tone. 

Their teacher raised an eyebrow at him. She cleared her throat. “Well, alright then. Since it was in your plan to humiliate Mister Potter anyway, I can’t see a better alternative than letting Dobby be the one to deliver it.” 

Pansy gasped and looked between them. “No, Professor McGonagall you can’t,” she begged. Fuck, right after this whole thing was over she was never speaking to Draco again. He was resorting to her begging for his dignity. “We’ll listen to all of your stories about past students, just don’t let Dobby deliver it.” 

“Seems like you two are close. I’m sure your parents are glad you’ve found someone. And so young, too!” 

Draco physically _ recoiled _ . Pansy couldn’t help but feel personally offended, even though she knew of his preferences. Then she looked closely at her teacher. There was mirth in her eyes that wasn’t there before.  _ She knows. She knows about Draco _ . Thank Merlin, this interrogation should end soon enough now. 

“Please don’t,” he begged. Maybe he was starting to realize she knew too. “We’re not together.” 

The older woman laughed and it reminded Pansy of the middle-aged women her mother would bring over for tea, full of teasing gossip and mirth. For the first time in her life, she wondered what Professor McGonagall was like as a teenage girl. Did she have a group of girlfriends to gossip with and talk about the boys they liked? Perhaps now that they had been invited into her office, Pansy could feel comfortable enough to ask her these questions. It  _ wasn’t  _ easy having a male Head of House. 

“Mister Malfoy,” she was still smiling when she spoke again. “I can assure you, as someone close to Mister Potter, that you can allow yourself this. You can allow yourself to feel this way.” 

Pansy gently placed her hand on top of Draco’s. It’s like McGonagall took the words right out of her mouth and spoke them in the most motherly tone she could summon. 

He took a deep breath. “He hates me. He’ll hate me more for this.” 

“I think you’re underestimating how quickly Mister Potter can accept some of the things that have happened to him.” 

“Yeah, remember the time his little fourteen-year-old name got pulled into a game meant for Seventh Years?” She grinned and nudged Draco’s side with her elbow. He scowled and rubbed his arm. 

“That wasn’t even fair…” he mumbled. 

Professor McGonagall held the letter in both hands. “How about this?” Draco met her eyes. “I’ll deliver this to Mister Potter myself. When he’s alone. If he doesn’t contact you within two weeks, please assume that he isn’t interested. If he does… well, I’m sure he’ll let you know.” 

She nodded towards the door. “The two of you may leave. Unless you ask otherwise, what we discussed and planned here will be between us and Mister Potter.” 

Draco was wringing his hands and kept his eyes glued to his feet all the way back to the Slytherin dungeons. 

~~~

“It’s been eight days, Pans,” Draco was buried in one of the Common Room’s well-used armchairs. He had his knees up to his chin and was chewing on his fingernails. A nasty habit Pansy thought he kicked in their third year. 

“Right. Not fourteen. You’re still in the clear.” She looked up from her novel. “And how do you expect him to make any confessions at all if you keep yourself hidden in Slytherin?”

“He’s bloody Potter, I'm sure he’d find a way.”

“Oh, that reminds me— Blaise mentioned that today is the last time he’d bring you meals from the Great Hall.”

Draco groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. In all honesty, Pansy did feel bad. It was fine for the first few days, normal even, but this nervous energy was starting to wear her down. She’d rather hear him complain about his crush on Potter for twenty years straight than live another five days of this strained contact. 

With how he was acting, Pansy thought Draco might’ve preferred if Potter just beat the shit out of him for confessing rather than whatever this shit was. 

He was right about something though. Harry bloody Potter would find a way into the Slytherin Common Rooms just to make a dramatic appearance for the occasion. She just never expected it to be so soon after their previous conversation. (Read: Draco’s constant whinging.) 

It was an hour after dinner. Ominous, right? Too late to expect anything, but not late enough for it to feel particularly frightening. For dinner, the house-elves prepared a huge ham with at least a hundred different sides. Pansy  _ would’ve  _ eaten like she was at a buffet, but she had a figure to look after. Not everyone could have a fast metabolism like some other blond Slytherins she knew. 

Even so, she still felt stuffed. Too full to study, naturally. The night was perfect for the dungeons. Students were asleep, so many of the lamps and candles were out and the creatures in the lake felt comfortable getting closer to the window looking in. That window was her favorite part of the Slytherin dungeon. Probably Draco’s favorite part too. 

There was no television at Hogwarts, so the window was the closest they could get. 

Draco was sitting right beside her, his head on her shoulder as they looked into the water. Neither of them heard him. To be fair, neither of them were expecting him either. If they had been, then maybe they’d be more aware of their surroundings. 

“Malfoy.” 

Pansy squealed and jumped up, knicking Draco on his chin. She whipped her head around and saw Potter behind the couch, holding a transparent material that completely hid his hand. Of bloody course, the Boy Who Lived had an invisibility cloak. How else would he be able to get in the trouble he regularly got into? Draco was still rubbing his jaw when his eyes met Potter’s. His expression was stony. 

“Potter,” he replied coolly, though Pansy knew he was anything but. 

“We need to talk.” 

McGonagall promised that everything would be okay if he contacted Draco before the two weeks were up. She promised them. Pansy rarely ever put her trust in her teachers, but this time she felt she had no choice. So far, she hadn’t been cast out of the room, but the boys were staring too intensely at each other. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice her. 

After so many years of hearing her best friend pine after this stupid Gryffindor, she felt she deserved to see the fruits of her emotional labor. 

Draco wouldn’t back down, of course, he wouldn’t. “Talk then.” 

Potter glanced at her, sucking his lips in between his teeth. Fuck, he noticed her. Maybe Draco would fight for her right to be in the room and be nosy. 

“Pansy, could you give us a moment?” 

Or he could be a backstabbing bastard. She was seething as she stood up, and hissed right in his face, “Fine, traitor. I’ll love seeing you scramble around Hogwarts  _ alone  _ the next time you do something stupid like this again.” 

“It was your idea in the first place, you absolute wench!” 

“Should I come back later, then?” Potter asked, far too amused for his own good. Blimey, if this was how he talked to You-Know-Who, she’s surprised he hadn’t gotten himself hexed yet. 

Draco was hopeless. He responded far too quickly, far too eagerly. Then again, Pansy supposed, he was no doubt desperate for Potter’s answer. And since he was right that she indirectly started this whole thing, she could at the very least respect his wishes. Didn’t mean she couldn’t give him a scathing look as she walked into the hall leading to the Girls’ Dormitories. 

Her roommates were in, as she expected. It’s not that she didn’t like her roommates, she just thought they didn’t like her. They wanted her to enjoy painting her toenails with them and going to the tea shop at Hogsmeade. But she hated the permeating smell of nail varnish that seemed to stain the air in their room for days after anyone paints their nails. There weren’t any windows in the dorm rooms, after all. 

“Why are you getting in so late?” Tracey Davis asked, looking up from a piece of parchment. (Probably from her Durmstrang boyfriend.) In fourth year she ditched her glasses, and Pansy highly suspects she did so to get boys to look at her more. 

Pansy sighed and hung her robes up on one of her bedposts then collapsed into the soft mattress. Merlin, how she loved these beds. 

“Draco kicked me out of the Common Room because he needed to talk to someone.” 

Daphne Greengrass perked up, her eyes alit with the promise of new gossip. “Is he finally getting a girlfriend?” She asked. 

She barked out a laugh. “No chance in hell. Do you know of any girls who’d want to date him? With all the pressure from his family, he looks like he has a perpetual stick up his arse.”

Tracey pouted her lips, eyebrows furrowing. “I swore you two were dating until last year. I don’t even know why. I guess I’ve just never seen a friendship like yours and Malfoy’s.”

“Why? Because he’s a man and I’m a woman?” 

Daphne smirked. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pansy. You’re only sixteen. I think the terms ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ apply just as well.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, almost involuntarily. They were ridiculous. She didn’t understand why she even talked to them. She didn’t know why she talked to any of her friends, in all honesty. At least Draco’s status did something for her future. That bastard should be lucky she’s with him for the long run. 

What the hell, how long did Draco and Potter need to confess? She huffed and checked the clock on the wall. It had been nearly twenty minutes. Should she intrude? Merlin, what if Draco was sobbing on the sofa while she sat on her arse talking to her roommates? Potter wasn’t that arrogant, was he? To take advantage of someone who had feelings for him? Pansy huffed again, and Tracey snapped at her. 

“Bloody hell, Pansy! Can you let me read this in peace?” 

She stood up from the comfort of her bed and stretched. “I’m gonna go see if Draco’s done talking yet. He promised to help me with studying for Transfiguration.”  _ No, he did not _ . Draco would never help her with homework, especially if she was being smug about something. 

And after all the hassle they went through due to her most recent smug idea, she didn’t think he’d be helping her with studying anytime soon. 

It was quiet as she neared the Common Room. Too quiet. Her eyes narrowed and she slipped her wand comfortably in her palm. Can never be too careful, right? 

Fuck, she wished she was blind when she stepped into the large room. She wished she was never even a witch. So that she’d never go to Hogwarts, never become friends with Draco Malfoy, never heard him whining about his crush on the Golden Boy, never convince him to write a love letter to said Golden Boy, and then maybe she wouldn’t have had to see what she saw. 

Draco and Potter were sprawled out on the sofa she had left him on. The Gryffindor’s invisibility cloak was covering their bottom halves by accident (or by an act of any god who was listening to Pansy’s limited prayers) and their faces were pressed together so closely that she couldn’t be sure if they weren’t just forming into one being. Who knows with accidental magical outbursts. 

Her presence didn’t immediately alert them, so she stomped her foot. She took pleasure in seeing Draco knock his forehead against Potter’s clumsily and look at with a heavy red blush on his cheekbones. Potter groaned and wiped his bottom lip of some blood. He must’ve accidentally cut him when he jerked up. 

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Glad it all worked out for you then,” she said.

~~~

She wore her nicest dress for the occasion. It wasn’t every day your best friend got married, now was it? Pansy couldn’t fall below her own expectations for such an event. And Draco would be smug and shitty if he knew she wore a dress not up to par. 

Of course, the invitations never said that the attire was formal. The guest list was far too large to expect everyone to dress in the finest. But Pansy was nothing if not a rule breaker. 

She could hear the guests arriving. The Weasleys were already there, the whole extended family. Narcissa Malfoy was sitting next to the mother Weasley, quietly chatting with her. Probably about useful household spells. Pansy couldn’t imagine them talking about anything else. Lucius Malfoy was, thankfully, not present for the event. 

A hand tapped her shoulder, and Pansy turned to greet Professor McGonagall. Well, Headmistress now. And technically not even her Headmistress anymore. She graduated seven years ago. 

McGonagall was smiling pleasantly at her. “And how are you, Miss Parkinson? Enjoying the wedding?” 

“I’ll enjoy it a lot more when the stars of the show finally arrive. I bet they’re looking at each other in their suits and are getting all sappy and weepy in the dressing room.” 

McGonagall laughed, and Pansy always felt so accomplished when she could make that happen. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass waved hello to her as they found their seats. The venue was huge. In total, nearly four hundred guests were invited. Pansy didn’t know what those two were thinking, honestly. She adored Headmistress McGonagall, but she couldn’t imagine inviting a past teacher to her wedding. 

She smiled, eyes glancing at the older woman sitting beside her. Then again, Draco really did owe it to her for interfering with Peeves. Merlin only knows what could’ve happened had that intervention not happened. 

This wasn’t a traditional wedding. Draco told her from the very start. Neither of them knew how to balance a traditional wizarding wedding and all of the different guests who would be attending, so they kept the itinerary a secret. Pansy’s eyes found Narcissa Malfoy’s figure again. 

The woman had lost so much during the war. She seemed to have aged at least ten years during that one year. Her husband was in Azkaban, and Pansy had to admire how put-together she was. If she were in her position, she didn’t think she’d be able to do the same. 

Despite the wedding not being traditional, Narcissa did walk Draco down the aisle. Their suits were contrasting, but complimented each other nicely. She had heard they hired Madame Malkin to help with their suits. The Granger-Weasley kid was their Flowergirl and she was doing her job well. The aisle was coated in thick flower petals from her basket. Pansy smiled when she saw the child douse her father in the rest of the flowers. 

There weren’t any reporters. The location was too obscure. As Draco gazed at him lovingly, calm music flowed through the open space. A band was there, but they didn’t know how to play calm, romantic songs without it becoming like an average pop song, so they had just charmed their instruments to do the work for them. 

Pansy wished she could say she didn’t cry. She never wanted to be the type of woman who cried at weddings. When she was a teenager, she used to force herself to watch sad movies and not cry so she could build up a tolerance. Turns out she couldn’t tolerate not crying at her best friend’s wedding. 

The wedding neither of them thought would happen. They expected to have been married and parents already because Draco’s family would not have allowed anything else. Maybe Daphne Greengrass would’ve been a good second choice, pureblooded and a powerful witch. Merlin, it felt wrong to think so morbidly on such a happy day. 

Draco’s vows were long and dramatic, which was entirely expected. Considering how he’d go on hour-long rants about his crush on Potter, this felt like nothing. At least Potter made his short and sweet. 

They both looked dashing. Potter managed to get his hair not to look like a bird’s nest, but Pansy didn’t think that would last very long. 

Things had changed a lot since she saw them kiss the first time and now. For one, neither of them were desperate, hormonal teenagers. And they had reached that disgusting point of domesticity where they didn’t need to prove to anyone that they really loved one another but themselves. They also got to that point where Pansy didn’t have to be cautious about crashing at their place in the middle of the night, but she did have to worry about them being sappy and romantic old bastards during breakfast. 

Family members, friends, and some Ministry officials cheered as Draco and Harry Malfoy-Potter walked back down the aisle, hand-in-hand. (“Pansy, you truly don’t know how good it feels for my name to come first in the hyphenation. It’s nearly euphoric.”) 

Draco hugged his mother first, Potter following suit, before walking up to Pansy. He had a healthy glow around him and when he hugged her his arm was still warm from the ceremonial Vow. Similar to the Unbreakable Vow, but far less severe. She couldn’t imagine taking that kind of Vow so young, but she trusted Draco to have made the right choice. 

She smiled up at him, her eyes meeting Harry’s. Draco’s husband was still holding his hand. 

“This celebration really should’ve been for me,” she said smugly. 

Draco laughed, and Harry asked, “Why’s that, Parkinson?” 

“If it wasn’t for my brilliant idea for Draco to write a love letter, then your years of bliss would never have come.” 

Her best friend looked  _ very  _ inclined to disagree. He was still smiling, but his eyes were narrowed. There were people around though, so he must’ve realized that he couldn’t just brawl it out right then and there with her. Harry seemed ecstatic that she said that, however. 

All of Pansy’s ideas were brilliant, every single one. It was only other people that fucked them all up. She watched as Harry pulled Draco towards the Weasley family, the smiles wide on their faces. 

Maybe this was the one idea that didn’t get fucked up. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a wedding scene before... Comments and kudos are always welcomed!


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